


One of these nights

by Ruis



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fantasy, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 18:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18783544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruis/pseuds/Ruis
Summary: The sky is clear, a blessing from the one who is always watching. In the reflective surface of the lake, Lene watches her back, sees her anew for the first time, ancient and reborn, round and full of promise.





	One of these nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skytramp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skytramp/gifts).



It is one of these nights again. For days now, she has felt the longing in her blood, pulsing with her heart’s beat and another, slower, but even less resistible rhythm that signifies her lover’s reign. It is the dance of days and nights, of dark and light, of breath and moments in between, of death and new life brought by death. Breathing in and out and in again, she becomes a part of the pattern of nights and days, accepting that rhythm as part of herself. In these nights, she is most aware of being alive, of having breath and dreams, and above all, that beating heart. 

She would be on her own in the darkness, just her and the wind and the lake and the forest and some rustling small animal, if not for the light enveloping, turning the tiny hairs on her forearms to silver and reminding her she would never be alone, not now, not in this magical night, nor in nights to come. Every step she has taken on her way to this quiet place, the light has followed her through the forest’s rustling foliage, played with dancing shadows on her skin, caressed her bare feet, caressed even the lush moss she has been walking on. 

The world becomes a different one in one of these nights. No calendar ever had to tell her when it becomes time, and purely on instinct, she knows to leave behind the city, the people, all that ties her down to that race. Human and not human anymore, all her senses becoming more acute by the minute, she forgets about all those tiny troubles of her life, about work, about duty. Only in these nights, she feels she is truly herself, and is loved for herself.

As if she could smell her lover on the still air, Lene takes a deep breath. She smells the forest, musky and deep with autumn’s early rain. She smells the lake, stagnant water and algae and more varied and wonderful life than visible to her. She smells the fumes of her car, faint but almost unbearable now. She smells a single dead oak, slow in rotting. She smells the light – no, she knows it is only her imagination, yet in the last few moments she always smells this, believes to smell, belief and smell becoming one. She smells the vole she has heard earlier, and briefly wonders if it smells her as well, and if it does, what it will make of her. She smells herself, human and carrying all those human scents, and that is when she knows the time is almost there now. With a smile full of joy, Lene prepares to meet the moon again.

Carelessly, she throws her shirt on the ground. It will become stained by the moss, which is why Lene has decided in advance to bring an old one. It is not the first of those nights for her, even if it will be the first, always the first, for her lover. She realizes that at some point she must have lost her shoes, and cannot bring herself to care. Too beautiful is her lover’s shine on her toenails, too restrictive those trappings. In these nights, Lene cannot remember why she ever decided to wear those human things, why would she, when she can have this? 

Her jeans are just an annoyance now, and she rips them off with her fingernails cutting the denim effortlessly, those nails being sharper than they are the rest of the time, in one of these nights. Lene discards the scraps without another thought and throws them on a pile along with her underwear. Naked in the silvery light, she feels she can listen more easily to her heartbeat, faster now. When she listens carefully, she can almost hear the moonlight itself, vibrating in the air over the motionless water. All her senses are so very aware of the light, in one of these nights.

The sky is clear, a blessing from the one who is always watching. In the reflective surface of the lake, Lene watches her back, sees her anew for the first time, ancient and reborn, round and full of promise. No ripple mars the perfection of the silvery circle at the center of Lene’s world, no breeze disturbs the image of Lene’s own face, moonlit from behind, her lover blessing her with a halo of liquid quicksilver while she takes the first step into the chilly water.

At the first touch of her toe, the mirror shatters. Circles form and spread over the surface, almost touching her lover’s face now. Stepping into the water fully, with both feet, she sees the reflections of the moon and of herself distorted, shifting, melting into each other now. Lene imagines this as the first caress of many to come, and softly she whispers her lover’s name. She speaks meaningless words, for only her lover to hear, and louder now, she calls upon the glorious light. She howls out her primal joy of being there and existing and living, the only things that matter in one of these nights, and then she waits. She knows she has been heard. Small waves have touched the whole surface of the lake, and she can perceive her lover’s shine only as seams on the crests of those tiny waves. So she is not surprised at all when she feels arms gently circling her from behind. 

It is the first time they meet, again, as her goddess dies and is reborn each month, with the unfailing rhythm that is written also in Lene’s blood. Lene accepts this, as she knows they will always fall in love again, in one of these nights. They always do. It does not keep her from mourning – but that will come later. Now, it is a time of joy and love and lust, and Lene turns to embrace her goddess fully. 

The kiss is what finally helps her to escape. She has been longing for this, for oblivion in favor of the forest and the hunt and that light that fills all her senses. All memories of mankind gone, she melts into her goddesses arms, and the last thing she forgets is her own name. In her other shape now, she jumps out of the water and rolls playfully in the moss before taking off. The hunt is on, now, and she runs, always followed by that wonderful light.


End file.
